


The Clock Ticks Down

by missmishka



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt, I so HATE Gerard, Pain, SPOILERS for 2x11 "Battlefield", Violence, allison has gone evil bitch, character suffering, chris is almost a good guy, depictions of torture, erica just wants more time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/pseuds/missmishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>**SPOILERS FOR 2x11 "BATTLEFIELD," Erica in the aftermath of the episode.  Struggling with her choices; struggling with what happened; struggling for more time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clock Ticks Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadowKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowKnight/gifts).



> DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format had done. Not for any profit.
> 
> After the last episode, Erica/Boyd now have a total thing in my head. They've had a thing in my head for a while now and I direct you to my other Teen Wolf work in progress "Breathing" to illustrate that point because I put Erica with Boyd starting pretty solidly in chapter 11. I regret nothing and I am going crazy with my inner cheering because after the last episode LOTS of people see Erica/Boyd now. 
> 
> Unfortunately, this series, like the show, sees the two in a very precarious situation....

They chain them up in a basement or warehouse, Erica is too disoriented to know which or care where.

She feels the poison of Wolfsbane spreading from the unhealing wound in her thigh and she grits her teeth against the burn.  Her injury is paltry; Boyd isn’t moving.

She filters out the conversation of the Argents as they chain her up and strains for signs that the boy is still alive.  Like a nightmare the images play and replay in her head as her wrists and ankles are clamped in shackles then anchored to the wall. 

She remembers Allison moving to stand over her; preparing to send a second arrow almost fatally into her chest had Boyd not caught the bolt before it could kill her.  And then she could only watch helplessly as the other girl relentlessly fired bolt after bolt into Boyd’s body; his gut, his thigh, his shoulder, his left side, his chest, his right side, his arm. 

Leaving Derek hadn’t spared them any of the Argent’s wrath, Allison was bent on killing them all just like her sadistic grandfather. 

Erica knows that losing a loved one can really twist a kid up inside, but she can’t believe it’s pushed the other girl so far.  Allison’s dark eyes had been burned with hatred in the face of all of Erica’s sobbing and begging and if Mr. Argent hadn’t shot the bow, Boyd would be dead in the woods instead of slowly dying in this place.

She can hear it; the signs of him fighting for life and losing as the overdose of Wolfsbane floods through his system.  His breathing is pained and his heartbeat is rapid as it tries to kickstart his healing powers, but can’t win the fight against the poison.  He’s unconscious and Erica wants to cry out for him to wake up, but not while those _people_ are still in the room.

Once they seem confident that she is safely secured with an additional clamp bolted around her waist to further immobilize her, the hunters turn to Boyd.  People that Erica has never seen before have him thrown carelessly on a table and are chaining him to it.  She watches as they drag heavy chains over his body; carelessly jostling the arrows still protruding from him and Boyd doesn’t stir at all.

Allison moves in when the others move away.

The girl walks slowly towards the table and looks down at Boyd’s still body weighted down under a ridiculous amount of chains.

“This may make me sound like kind of a bitch,” Allison begins to speak to her without even looking at Erica, “but I’ve always wondered what it feels like to steal somebody’s boyfriend.  I bet it’s a pretty _sick_ rush of power.”

Erica remembers those words and goes deathly still at hearing them thrown back at her in this setting.

“I think I might try it with Boyd,” Allison’s hand whips out and ruthlessly yanks the arrow from Boyd’s thigh.  “He is your boyfriend, isn’t he?”  She frowns at his lack of response to her move then she continues to retrieve the rest of her bolts from his flesh.  “I mean the way he threw himself in front of me to save your pathetic life.  Such chivalry,” she finally turns to flash a glare in Erica’s direction as she deposits the bloody arrows back in the quiver still hanging across her back.  “Pity he isn’t my type,” she turns back to poke a finger in the hole left by the arrow to the boy’s chest.

“Stop it,” Erica snaps and snarls, feeling the wolf inside her rise to fight the chains holding her back from protecting her unconscious pack mate. 

“Or what?” Allison gives a challenging look over her shoulder while she twists her finger in deeper.

“Leave him alone,” the chains rattle against the wall but there’s no give to the restraints as they keep Erica anchored solidly in place.

“Look at you,” Allison pulls her finger out of the wound and moves to stroke it over Erica’s cheek, “so worried for your little boyfriend.”

Erica feels the trail of crimson on her skin and her wolf reacts to the scent of blood; her eyes turn gold and her fangs emerge to bite at the other girl while Allison simply turns away.

“You know, it _is_ a real rush of power to take a boyfriend,” the other girl says as she moves back to the table.  “There’s more than one way to steal him from you,” her fingers move to the pulse in Boyd’s neck feeling how it has slowed just as Erica can hear the boy’s heart has lost its will to fight the toxin.  “He was quite impressive out in the woods.  I have over a dozen arrows and it nearly emptied my quiver to bring him down.  But look how the mighty have fallen,” she slaps his face and he head just flops to the side from the blow.  “I’ve killed him.  I think that counts as taking him away from you.  Knowing that you can see the whole thing happen without being able to do a thing to save him?  The rush from that is practically orgasmic.”

Words and pleas and threats all scramble through Erica’s head and race to the tip of her tongue to be spoken in the face of such talk, but when she opens her mouth all that comes out is a long, loud howl of anguish.

“Allison,” Chris Argent finally appears to stop the girl’s insanity.  “Go. Now.  Wait outside for Gerard.”

Erica feels herself collapsing as her knees give out and the howl dies in her aching throat.  The chains won’t even allow her to sink to the concrete floor so she just hangs there weakly as the man somehow gets Allison to leave.  She feels the tears on her face and lets them continue to flow even though she hates these people being able to see that they've made her cry. 

“How can you do this to us?” she asks brokenly as she senses the man moving towards Boyd.  “You’re a father.  We’re only kids.”

“I was a husband, too, until last week,” she lifts her head to see him checking Boyd’s vitals with a practiced air.  “You two may be young and have proven yourselves foolish, but you’re no longer kids.  You allied yourselves with a beast and there are those that will see you put down with him.”

“We had nothing to do with Derek biting your wife,” she yanks weakly at her wrist shackles. 

“I know,” he braces his hands on the edge of the table and drops his head forward.  “None of this is the way _I_ do things.  But,” his icy blue eyes are a frozen wasteland of regret and other emotions when he looks at her, “this has all been taken from my hands.”

“You can still stop it.  Help him, please,” her fingers twist in iron links as she begs not for herself.  “Don’t let him die.”

“I can’t.”

“Then let me,” she strains toward the table.  “Let me help him.  Let me be with him.  Let me try.  _Please_ , just let me get closer.”

“Holding the one you love as they die doesn’t make it any easier,” the man’s voice is rough with emotion.  “Trust me.”

Erica watches him leave and feels panting growls leave her chest at the impotence of her situation.  They’re all calling Boyd her boyfriend and love, but she hasn’t had any time to have such thoughts for herself. 

**_They_ ** _haven’t had any time._

All she wants is time. 

More time. 

Just another chance to smile at Boyd and get him to smile back at her.  One more time for his broad fingers to sweep across the curve of her cheek to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.  Just one more moment so that she could curl herself against his strong body and feel small and cherished and safe as his arms held her tight and his voice promised her that they’d find another Alpha and always have a pack as long as they were together. 

If she could only steal one more second to stroke her fingers over his bald head and pull his mouth to hers for a kiss.

_Oh, God, she just wanted to kiss him before they die and she’s left never knowing if Boyd kisses with the tenderness he has shown her or if his lips would be firm and strong and as fierce as the boy was when fighting._

As she listens to his breathing and heart beating more slowly, Erica prays.  She cries and curses and begs the fates and makes promises to whatever deities there may be because it isn’t about her; Boyd doesn’t deserve to die.  He could and should have kept running like she had told him to, but he hadn’t.  He’d come back and stopped the arrow that would have gone through her heart.

This is far worse, though.  This is her heart being yanked inch by painstaking inch from her chest as she knows she’s watching him die and she can’t cope with the idea of Boyd having done that for _her_.

Her curses turn on him at one point; telling him that.  Calling him an idiot and fool and jerk for coming back for her because she just isn’t worth it. 

 _Never was and never would be worth it_ , she sobs. 

“Are,” she stops her babbling and stares at the table.  “Are worth it.”

“Boyd,” his name shudders from her as she leans as close as the chains will allow.

His eyes are dark with pain and can’t seem to really focus on her, but she bites back a sob at seeing them open.

“Fight it, Boyd,” she urges; willing all of her own strength into him when their gazes lock.  “Don’t leave me.”

“Trying not to,” the corner of his mouth curls briefly upward before going slack as his eyes fall closed again.

“Boyd?” she calls out to him.  “Boyd, look at me.”

She screams and tears at the shackles upon her, pulling until her wrists bleed and trying with everything she has to break the bones in her hands so that she can work them through the iron bracelets.

“Now, now.  Such behavior is most unbecoming of a young lady.”

The words mean nothing to her, but the voice speaking them freezes everything inside of Erica and she immediately stops her struggling.

“Put him over there,” she looks up to find Gerard Argent directing some minion toward a corner of the room.

Her gut twists at the sight of Stiles Stilinski being dragged in the direction indicated.  Her former crush is still in his lacrosse uniform, pads and all, and he’s as unconscious as Boyd.

“What have you done?”

Gerard looks around with a faint laugh because the question comes at him from two separate yet equally passionate sources.  Erica looks toward Chris Argent in surprise at hearing him echo her question.

“This one is not a werewolf.  He is _not_ a part of this,” Chris moves to face his father.

“That one is more a part of this than any of them,” Gerard disagrees with a small smile and absolute calm in his voice.  “He's the heart of it all.  They’ll all come for their little friend.”

“Yes, they all will.  Especially his father, the _Sheriff_ ,” Chris runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head in disgust.  “You are out of control and this stops now.  Get him out of here,” he turns to order the men currently chaining Stiles to a chain.

“I am, in fact, in total control here, Christopher,” Gerard gives a nod and suddenly more men appear behind Chris.  “I would suggest you stop interfering, but you always have taken after your mother in that regard.  She was too weak to lead, as well.  Never had the stomach for this.  Catherine, though.  My poor, lost, little Katie,” the creepizoid gets lost in some thought as the new arrivals move to restrain the struggling Chris.  “She had what it took.  She never flinched from what had to be done.  And you let her die.”

The old man moves to strike his son.  Erica sees a flash of something in the man’s fist before it connects and watches the younger Argent crumble to the floor from the blow. 

“Put him over there and make sure Allison stays on guard outside.”

Erica watches in disbelief as people actually obey the man; watches as they finish lashing Stiles to a chair and as they put shackles on Chris Argent without showing any concern for the blood now flowing over the face of one of their own.

People wrote books about werewolves, vampires and other demons; made movies to portray such things as abominations to be feared and destroyed.

This scene that she finds herself in is far scarier than any horror movie and the reason for that is _supposedly_ a human being; a _normal_ person.

“You’re a monster,” she breathes in disgust at the sight of the man surveying the room like a proud conqueror.

“What I am, little girl, is a father who has outlived his child.  No parent should ever have to watch their baby put in the ground before their time.  Kate will be avenged.”

The pain of the spreading poison in her veins, the reality of Boyd’s fading life signs, the insanity of the moment; any one of those things could have made Erica go a little crazy, but she thinks it is that line that pushes her mind to breaking.

“Somehow, that worked a whole lot better coming from Coulson,” she muses before bursting into hysterical laughter at the realization that her own brand of Avengers had to be assembling this very moment.

_For Stilinski._

Gerard picked the right pawn there.  Derek would come running to get Stiles as would Scott and the Sheriff and countless others in Beacon Hills would come to save Stilinski.

But Boyd is the only one that had ever made a move to save Erica and she resumes the fight against her bonds in fear that no one will get there in time to save _him._

Vengeance was the root of all of this and Erica is sickened by the fruit that is coming to bear from all the revenge and avenging, but she understands it. 

If Boyd is made to lie there suffering until he dies; Erica silently vows that she will make Allison Argent suffer until the little bitch dies as well.

But she hopes it doesn’t come to that. 

She looks around the room at all the blood and damage; feels all the hatred from Gerard, the apathy from the other hunters and all she wants is to go back to being an epileptic little nobody because at least _she_ had had a chance of actually surviving high school with only psychological scars.

A whistle splits the sudden silence in her head and she glances up at the noise, recognizing it as a signal.

“Ahh, right on schedule,” Gerard takes something out of his pocket, opens it and retrieves a pill from the container before putting the thing back in his pocket.  “String them up,” he orders before popping the pill and leaving the room.

Before she can even think to process what he meant a blinding flash of pain hit her along with something hard and electrified; causing her to finally, blissfully pass out.


End file.
